


Ain't Natural to Be Lonesome

by flannelfeelings



Series: A Day in the life of Winchester [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Arguments, Big Brother Dean, Bittersweet Ending, Brothers, Dean Winchester-centric, Dean is supportive, Dean's pain, Dean's self sacrificing has no bounds, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Fighting, Fights, Hunting, John Winchester sucks, John Winchetser is an ass, Little Brother Sam, Pre-Canon, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam is in a play, Self Esteem Issues, Sibling Bonding, Supportive Sibling Dean Winchester, Teenage Sam, Young Dean, Young Winchesters (Supernatural), ive never seen our town, mentions of abuse, not wincest, our town, sibling relationships, sooo sorry lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 16:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/flannelfeelings
Summary: Sam's excitement can't be contained as he announces he's been cast in the schools performance of Our Town. His big brother Dean is just as happy.Hopefully they can get through it with nothing "Winchester-y" going wrong.Probably not likely.





	Ain't Natural to Be Lonesome

**Author's Note:**

> so remember when dean said sam ran tech for oklahoma and did our town?? I wrote about it lol
> 
> unbeta'd and just a mess of feeling so sorry
> 
> let me know if you enjoyed! or maybe hated it idk but here it is!!

Dean made fun of Sam quite a bit.

Hell, the kid made it so damn easy. He was a dweeb, he was klutzy, and he was Dean’s little brother. He was basically a cocktail of teasing ammo, tailored perfectly to Dean. Of course, he kept it light, but what kind of big brother didn’t make his little bro’s life hell once in a while?

This explained why Sam had been nervous to tell him that he was going to be in a play. _“Our Town”_ he said. He was going to be the lead- George Gibbs. Dean was somewhat surprised by this development; Sam had shown an interest in the theater before, running tech for_ Oklahoma_. But this was a real role; the starring male role, in fact.

“Wow!” Dean had said, eyes wide with a bit of pleasant shock, “That’s awesome Sammy! Ain’t that the play where the chick gets knocked up and dies? Then she’s like a ghost?”

Sam rolled his eyes, shooting his big brother a long-suffering stare, “In so few words...yes. I’m honestly just impressed you knew that much of the plot.”

Dean scoffed, “I know stuff.”

Sammy was now entering his junior year of high school, Dean having dropped out a few years prior, just on the cusp of graduation. That had been a big fight between Sam and him; but their Dad needed Dean to be focused on hunting, more than anything. He’d gotten a lead on the yellow-eyed demon just before Dean’s senior prom; and at that point there was really no use in finishing out the last few months, so he pulled Dean out. He was currently twenty one, and they weren’t really any closer to finding the damn thing.

But none of that mattered; Sammy was gonna be in _Our Town,_ dammit. And Dean was gonna make sure that his family supported him.

“Dad’s gonna be so geeked.” Dean assured his brother, patting his shoulder roughly.

Sam’s face screwed up with a familiar distaste, “So...you think he’ll come?”

Dean’s brows knit together, “Of course he’ll come Sammy.”

Though, he wasn’t entirely sure about that. They were in town hunting a family of rugaru’s right now, and John was very focused on that. They hadn’t seen much of their dad in the past month or so.

Dean shoved his brother toward the kitchen, “Now start your homework, and don’t go gettin’ anybody pregnant for real.”

* * *

The next few weeks found Sam and Dean pouring over the scripts the younger brother had brought home to practice with. Dean ran lines with him, stepping in for Emily, the ghost of Sam’s character’s baby mama. Or, as Sam referred to her, “his deceased lover.” Puke city.

They’d been working hard, and Dean had never been so proud of Sam. He was going to kill his performance, which was tonight. The school’s theater department was sorely lacking in funding, so the brothers had been working at home on making Sam’s costume a little nicer. Luckily, John had an old pair of suspenders tucked away in one of their often un-opened duffels, and they fit Sam after some adjusting. He borrowed Dean’s white button-down that he used to impersonate an FBI intern with his dad on cases, and they were able to find him a slouch cap at a nearby thrift store for a whopping $3.50. Dean sacrificed buying himself a soda with dinner that night, but the smile on Sam’s face when he tried it on (exclaiming “_it’s perfect!”_) was more than worth it.

So they ended up here, Sam freshly showered and standing before the motel bathroom mirror, wiping away fog as he struggled to comb his shaggy hair into a feasible- neat appearance. Dean was ironing the button-down as a rerun of _Johnny Bravo_ came through the tinny speakers of the box television.

He could hear Sam from the bathroom, practicing his lines to himself, “_... I think that once you've found a person that you're very fond of ... I mean a person who's fond of you, too, and likes you enough to be interested in your character . . . Well, I think that's just as important as college is, and even more so. That's what I think._”

_ “I think it’s awfully important too!_” Dean called out in a teasingly-feminine, shrill voice, supplying Emily’s next line.

Sam poked his head out of the bathroom door, cheeks flushed red, “Shut up and iron!”

Dean chuckled, going back to ironing as he chewed on his bottom lip. As much fun as he’d been having with Sammy practicing for the play, it had also gotten him thinking. The character George’s desire to go off and experience things outside of their small town...his want to go to college and become worldly, well, it reminded Dean an awful lot of his little brother.

He wondered if Sam slipped so easily into the role of George because he too, felt trapped and wanted out. That thought was far too painful to give a lot of attention to though, so Dean just focused his eyes on the ironing board, and tried not to remember that Sammy only had one year left before he turned eighteen.

About halfway through Sam buttoning up the freshly ironed shirt over his torso, the phone on the nightstand rang. The brothers made eye contact for a moment, before Dean walked over to it and picked it up.

“Who’s this?” He said gruffly into the receiver.

“It’s me. Where’s your brother?”

Dean’s shoulders sagged, “Hi Dad. We’re both here.”

John’s brash voice came back through the receiver, “Good. I need you to pack up, I’m coming to get you both now. I killed most of the rugaru family but two got away… I think they’re retreating to another state. We gotta go tonight.”

John’s words sank in, as Dean looked over at his brother, who was struggling to get the suspenders up over his shoulders. He knew he had to try to reason with his father, he couldn’t let him ruin this for Sammy. He’d worked so damn hard.

“Sam.” Dean said, covering the receiver with his hand to speak to his brother, “Can you run out and get some ice? Dad sprained his wrist.”

This was not an unusual request. The younger brother nodded, grabbing Dean’s wallet, and headed out of the motel room. That bought Dean a few minutes to speak freely.

“Dad, can’t it wait?” He insisted, speaking into the phone again, “Sam’s play is tonight.”

“Dean-” “He’s been working so hard! Can’t we just leave after the play is over? It’s only a few more hours.”

“Don't interrupt me.” John snapped, “It may be just a few hours, but the rugarus could kill who knows how many people in that time. You want to be responsible for those deaths, Dean?”

The younger man grimaced, hands clamming up on the phone, “No, Dad, but-”

“Don’t _but_ me kid. Get the damn room packed up, I’ll be there in a half hour.”

The line disconnected.

Anger overwhelmed Dean, and his teeth ground together audibly. His fingers suddenly hurt from gripping the phone like a vice. How fucking dare he? Just...just disappear for weeks and then swoop in and try to ruin this for Sammy? No. Dean wasn’t going to let that happen. Tonight was Sam’s big night.

He knew he’d catch hell for it, maybe even a shiny black eye, but he didn’t care. Sam was going to make it to his fucking play, even if it killed Dean.

When Sam returned to the room, loaded up with an ice bag, Dean quickly threw it in the minifridge and said, “Get the lead out kid, we gotta get to the school.”

Sam’s brows cocked up with confusion, glancing at the wall clock, “I don’t have to be there for another twenty minutes?”

Dean stuffed his feet into his brown work boots, shrugging, “I wanna stop for a drink on the way. Plus, you walk slow.”

Sam scoffed, though he followed Dean’s example, pulling on his jacket and fixing his hat neatly on his head before they exited the room. Dean’s throat felt thick and tight with betrayal: he couldn’t believe he was outright disobeying their father. That never ended well.

As they walked quietly down the dimly illuminated streets of the dingy little town, Sam piped up a question, “Everything alright, Dean?”

Damn the kid’s intuitiveness. He forced a smile on his face, patting Sam’s shoulder roughly, “‘Course Sammy, I’m just worried you’re gonna embarrass yourself on stage.”

Sam groaned, “Thanks Dean! As if I wasn’t nervous enough!”

They stopped at a diner about halfway there, each getting a milkshake to go before getting back on their way. Sam insisted he probably shouldn’t drink a milkshake before going on, but Dean relaxed his concerns by elbowing him in the ribs and challenging him to a race to the next stoplight.

Despite Sam’s long legs, Dean won, of course. He always won.

They arrived for first call five minutes early, and Dean wished Sammy luck before finding a seat in the second row by the end. He tapped his fingers on his knees excitedly; trying not to think about their father returning to an empty hotel room. He knew John wouldn’t show up to the play; but he also knew he was in serious trouble.

Dean ended up sandwiched between two soccer moms who were excitedly yapping to the whole aisle about who their kids were, and asked him if he had friends in the show. He couldn’t help the proud, smug grin on his face as he answered, “My little brother is playing George.”

Finally, the production began, and Dean settled in to watch the fruits of his and Sam’s labor come forth.

Sam was incredible. Dean knew every word of this script by heart, given how much they’d been practicing, and he even mouthed the words along with Emily as she spoke onstage. But all of their late-night script-cramming could not have prepared him for how well Sam commanded the stage. With his shoulders back, stance tall and confident, he was not the Sammy that Dean was used to. He was not shy and reserved; he bore no concerns of monsters sneaking in to kill him. He was a regal, 19th century man, courting a woman who would soon die before her time.

Dean was so fucking proud of him.

By the time the third act was over, the entire audience was on their feet. Dean whooped and hollered, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to. His hands stung from clapping together so damn loudly. He caught Sam’s eyes after the final bow, and the younger boy waved at him, smiling elatedly. His eyes didn’t leave Dean for once second; not even to notice that their father hadn’t showed.

After the performance was over, Dean met up with Sam backstage, throwing his arm around the taller boy’s shoulders. Pride beamed through his body as he pulled Sam’s cap off and ruffled his hair messily.

“You were amazing, kid!” Dean breathed, “How come you didn’t tell me you’re such a damn good actor!?”

Sam’s face was beet red with the praise, as he waved goodbye to his castmates and followed Dean out through the back entrance to the parking lot, “I_ was_ good, wasn’t I?”

“You killed it!” Dean insisted, throwing the hat on his own head as he attempted to imitate Sam’s brooding, gentlemanly drawl, “_I wish a fellow could get married without all that marching up and down!_”

Sam laughed and shoved Dean teasingly, “You _wish_ you were this good!”

Dean bit back his snarky reply, wanting Sam to know the truth, “You’re right. I really do kid.”

The shaggy-haired boy grinned, “I can’t wait for tomorrow night’s show. Now that I really have a feel for the stage, I think it’ll be even better.”

A pit suddenly grew in Dean’s stomach as he remembered what they were walking back to. He hated this, but he at least owed Sammy some sort of preparation for what was to come. Sam would not be returning for the next few shows.

“Er...Sam-”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to come see it again.” Sam assured him, “It means so much that you saw it tonight, Dean. I know this...this isn’t your thing, _at all._ But you really helped me out with this, so thanks for that.” Sam reached out and placed a hand gently on his brother’s shoulder, “It wouldn’t have been such a great show if it weren’t for you.”

“You can’t do any more shows.” Dean blurted out, unable to properly filter his words as the guilt Sam’s words imposed on him overflowed, “Dad says we have to leave tonight.”

The excitement and energy drained from Sam’s shoulders all at once, and the grin melted off his face. Dean took the cap off his head, wringing it nervously in his fingers as he watched his brother go from giddy, to sullen in a moment's time.

“Oh.” Sam murmured, “That’s why he called.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean began, but Sam cut him off.

“Can’t you like..try to talk to him?” Sam asked, “You’re an adult, he should listen to you.”

Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck, “I already tried. The rugarus are fleeing to another state.”

“Can’t you try again?” Sam shook his head, “I mean, why does he even need us to go? I could stay with you here until he’s done with the hunt.”

“He won’t leave without you Sammy, you know that.”

Sam kicked a rock with his shoe, working over his lower lip with his teeth. He shook his head, looking up at the stars. The anger was visible on his face, but he was always more composed than Dean.

“Well that sucks.” He finally said.

“I’m sorry Sam-”

“It’s fine.” The taller boy shook his head with frustration as he continued walking forward, “One more year.”

Dean frowned, jogging to catch up with his quick gait, “One more year _what_?”

Sam crossed his arms, glowering, “Til I can leave.”

The older of the two blinked, wide-eyed, “Whoa whoa whoa kid, pump the brakes. What do you mean _leave_?”

“Dean,” Sam looked at him seriously, “Did you really think I was gonna stay, hunt, follow in your and dad's footsteps?”

“Well, _no_, but-”

“So I have to leave. I know you’re too afraid, you’ll never leave. But it’s just something I have to do. I’m sick of living like this.”

Dean’s brows knit together, “What do you mean I’m _too afraid_?”

“C’mon Dean!” Sam threw his hands up in exasperation, “You’re too scared to disobey Dad, to piss him off. To do anything on your own without his okay. For god’s sake, you dropped out of school because of a false lead on the demon! Why are you so afraid to just be your own damn person?”

Anger flowed through Dean now, hot and unbridled at his brother’s words. Who the hell did Sam think he was? Dean disobeyed their father all the time- like tonight, bringing Sam to the play when he knew they were supposed to be on the road by now. He wasn’t afraid, hell, he only fuckin’ stuck around because he knew he couldn’t leave Sam and John alone. They’d kill each other without him there as a buffer.

In a bought of rage, he reached over and shoved Sam. The taller boy stumbled back, the force of Dean’s push landing him on his ass in the parking lot. He looked up, hurt evident on his expression. But he was on his feet just as quick, he wasn’t a little kid anymore.

“Screw you!” Sam shouted, whirling on his heel and stomping off in the direction of the motel. He knew better than to challenge his older brother to a fight.

Dean sighed, and followed behind him silently, keeping a steady pace back. When they reached the motel, Sam entered, slamming the door in Dean’s face before he could follow him in. He sighed gently, knowing there were two angry men in there waiting for him. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it gingerly. His father was sitting on one of the beds, his journal in his hands. Sam had stomped into the bathroom and shut the door, but Dean could hear the shower running. John turned when he entered, meeting his eyes.

“Hi.” Dean said.

“Outside.” Was all he received in reply.

Suppressing another sigh, Dean turned and walked out, hearing his father’s heavy footsteps behind him. The motel door slammed shut, the frame vibrating with the force. Dean braced himself for the worst.

John’s arms were crossed sternly over his chest, “You directly disobeyed me, Dean.”

“Dad-”

“When I give you an order I expect that you follow it.”

“I know, Dad, but-”

“Don’t interrupt me again.” The serious fire in John’s eyes caused Dean to back down, clamming up as he looked into those angry hazel irises. The older man shook his head, scrubbing a hand across his face with frustration, “Dean, I told you those rugarus were going to kill again. And you just didn’t care.”

Dean knew better than to speak up any more.

“What’s it going to take, huh? People's lives are at stake here, Dean. And all you care about is a stupid play.”

Dean’s teeth gritted together at this last bit, fingers curling up into his palms. He braved a brief, “It’s not stupid. Sam worked really hard on it, and now he has to miss the next show.”

“Oh, and your _brother_.” John scoffed, “_I don’t wanna go hunting, I wanna do theater_! What kind of a man acts in plays? I swear, sometimes the two of you-”

“Dad will you stop?!” Dean couldn’t help the flow of anger that spilled from his lips now, “Don’t talk about Sam like that, okay? He wanted to do something good for college applications, and he was amazing. _You_ wouldn’t know that though, because you didn’t show up!”

In a second, John had Dean by the collar of his jacket, pushing him up against the doorframe of the motel door, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me like that, boy! You ain’t too old to have the hide whipped off ‘ya.” He roughly shoved Dean back, making him stumble, and glowered, “Pack the shit up. You’re coming with me to finish off the other two rugarus. Sam can stay back and do the damn play.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “Really? He can stay?”

“We’ll come back and get him when the rugarus are dead. Leave him your wallet. I’m gonna go get a drink. Get inside and pack our shit up. We’re leaving when I get back.” John stalked off toward the Impala across the lot.

“Thank you!” Dean called, surprised.

John didn’t reply. He climbed behind the wheel and sped off, presumably toward a nearby liquor store.

Awed and confused, Dean pushed the motel door open again, stepping in. He shut it behind him slowly, glancing up to see that Sam was freshly showered and in comfortable road trip clothes. He shot Dean a glare, and went over to the pull-out couch to pack up his bag.

“Uh...Sammy.” Dean said quietly, still shocked at his dad’s response.

Sam didn’t reply. The kid was still pissed about Dean shoving him, understandably. Dean felt bad about his outburst, but he just had to let the anger tide over. Sam wasn’t much of a grudge holder, once time passed.

“Well, Dad says you can stay.” Dean said, though he was speaking to Sam’s back as he packed up.

Sam glanced behind him, frowning, “He said what?”

“You can stay and finish the next couple shows. Me n’ him will go take care of the rugarus and get you when they’re dead.”

Dean expected his younger brother to look happy, overjoyed even, but his face was...sullen. There was a glint of concern in his hazel eyes; that mirrored their fathers so close it was a little unsettling.

“Is this how you jump for joy?” Dean asked after a minute of quiet.

Sam scratched his neck, fidgeting, “You have to go with him on the hunt then, alone?”

“Sammy, I’d probably have to go with him anyway. It’s pretty clear he can’t handle these things alone.” Dean assured him, “I’ll leave you my wallet and stuff, we’ll only be gone a couple of days.”

“What if something happens to you guys?” Sam demanded, “There’s no one there to...I’ll be states away with no car.” He shook his head, “I’m coming. It’s fine.”

“Sam-”

“No Dean.” He shook his head assuredly, “I’m not letting you go off with him alone.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow up challengingly, “Well, according to you, I’m gonna have to get used to that in a year, right?”

Sam angrily threw his duffel down on the bed, “Why are you being like this?”

“I’m not _being_ like anything, Sam. I’m trying to help you. Now quit bein' a dick!” Dean rolled his eyes, moving over to grab Sam’s duffel and pull clothes out of it.

“Hey, stop!” Sam swatted his hands off, grabbing the clothes and stuffing them back in, “I’m going with you!”

Dean brushed Sam out of the way and went to pack the bag again, before feeling a force on his back and being jolted forward. He stumbled into the bed, but righted himself quickly, turning to see that Sam had shoved him forward.

“Stop it!” Sam said again, “Just stop! I don’t want to be here alone, I just- I can’t let you go without me. I’m coming.”

“You pushed me.” Dean replied indignantly.

“You mean like you did to me at the school?” Sam snapped, “I _said_ I’m coming. Let’s just do what dad asked and pack this crap up so we can go.”

In a huff, he continued to throw stuff into the duffel, ignoring Dean’s stare as he worked. After a moment, Dean realized his brother was really not going to let them leave without him. Defeated, he walked over to his own bed and began packing up his and his father’s things.

After another half hour, John pulled up in front of the motel and honked to alert them of his presence. The boys grabbed up the bags and chugged out to the car, loading up the trunk with their stuff. Dean climbed in the passenger seat, curling his knees up under his chin. Sam stretched out in the backseat, staring at the roof of the car as it if had answers.

“Thought you were stayin’.” John addressed Sam gruffly about fifteen minutes into the drive.

“Changed my mind.” Sam replied shortly.

John didn’t reply, just stared ahead at the road.

Dean looked out at the trees passing, mentally preparing himself for the vicious hunt ahead of him, and also trying to move past the argument with his brother. He was angry at Sam for not staying when John had actually listened to Dean for once. But he was also relieved he wouldn’t have to worry about Sam being so far away and alone. Though, according to Sam, that was a concern he’d have to get used to.

Instead of thinking about that, though, Dean just watched the trees. Even though the air was tense and the car was painfully quiet, for now, they were all together.

And Dean didn’t know how much longer that would last.


End file.
